I Will Not Grieve
by Goldenflame12
Summary: One-shot of when Luna's mother died in Luna's point of view. Please read, review and follow!


**Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in this one-shot, and I do not own Harry Potter. I hail J. K. Rowling , and there is no way I could write anything as fabulous as her. **

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I awake with a jolt, suddenly aware of the bright lights floating around, bringing the danger of nargles making their homes in my room. My eyes scan the room and fall on a heavily scented chinese fan, and I grab that and give it two sweeping waves. That should have taken care of any nargles. They don't like strong scents. I go ahead to check if there are any wrackspurts in my room when I hear muffled thudding and yelling under my room. The only other beings in my house were my parents. What could be going on between them. Questions were swept into my mind like a flood, and my thirst for answers had to be clenched. After making sure to put my spectrespecs back carefully, I tiptoe downstairs.

It is easy to locate where the thudding and shouting is coming from when I am on the same floor. I follow the path of sound, and end up outside my mother's lab. What was my father doing in there? Nobody was allowed in the lab because my mother feared that someone (mostly me, actually) would touch the dangerous liquids she kept, concoctions that could damage one for life. I don't touch them, and I don't know what my father is doing in there. What if he was hurt? I press my ear to the cold metal of the door, and I shiver as the words inside become clear as glass.

"Pandora, I ask you once again, the risk is too great. What will I do if this goes wrong?" I recognize the deep voice of my father. My heart rate speeds up. I find myself waiting for my mother's response.

"Xeno, you fret too much," my mother replies in her bright, beautiful voice, "Sure, there is a risk, but I will be careful. Just think if this goes right! I could change healing methods for the whole wizarding world. Think of all those innocent souls who die every day because of lack of medicine. This could change that!" I smile inspite of the tense conversation. My mother has such a caring soul. Of course she would want to do something like this.

"Pandora, I can't risk-" my father starts, but he is cut off by my mom's now ice hard voice. She has never sounded so cold.

"You aren't risking anything. I'm the one doing the risking. You can leave now." I am shocked to hear my mother so strict and firm. The ground shakes beneath me as I hear footsteps advancing toward the door. My eyes widen. I can't be found here eavesdropping! I rack my brain for something to busy myself with. Luckily, right behind me is the stack of this month's edition of the Quibbler. Letting out a huge sigh, I pick off the top magazine and finding nowhere to sit, lower myself onto the stack of magazines. Just as my body touches the thin paper, my father bursts out of the lab, an untame look in his eyes. I sense that this is not the time to ask him what mom was talking about. Father charges out without even so glancing at my figure hunched on the books. Even if I wanted answers, he wasn't ready to give them.

My heart is thudding now, because the flood of questions is restricting my breathing, pulling me under, and my worry for mom is only progressing my pain. Father was worried about mom too, I could tell. Very worried. He was usually so easy going with whatever she did, even if he did not like it. What about this experiment had caused him so much worry?

I jump down from the stack of magazines, and slip on something round. I hit the floor with a thud, and just like that, my father flies to the lab, that wild look in his eyes again. Seeing me on the ground massaging my foot seems to calm him.

"Oh, it's just you Luna," he chokes with relief, "I thought that something happened to mom."

I can relate to his relief, and I am just as thankful that mom is alright. He leaves, and I pick up the cause of my little accident. I recognize it as father's wand, and can tell by the end which had split into a few small chips, that it had fallen out of his pocket when he stormed out of the lab. I get the feel of having a wand in my hand, and suddenly, I have a burning desire to go to Hogwarts and learn magic. That way, I could do anything with a mere flick of my hand just like mom and dad did. Mom's voice comes back to me though- "Two more years Luna... be patient."

And I know I must be patient. Whatever mom was doing in there, I couldn't interfere. I just had to wait until she finished and walked out, with that triumphant look on her face that told me she achieved something great. Then I could ask her about it. I walk over to the lab door- the drop of black paint among the painting of the white house. Black against the white walls, dark against happiness. I always have felt tense around here, like something might happen to my mother, alone and defenseless in there, and suddenly, all my worry floods back. I sit down, rest my head against the hard metal, and pray for my gorgeous mom.

I dozed off. I know I did, and I will never forgive myself for it. I was awakened by a sharp gasp from inside, followed by a heart-wrenching scream. I wait for my father to come and use magic to open the door, but I realize that he cannot hear from inside his study. I also know I have no time to run and get him. Mom was in there, and she needed help now. The screaming continues, and I grapple for dad's wand. I know not a single spell. It doesn't take me long to realize what a useless fool I am. But I have to try.

"Break." I whisper, pointing the wand and the door. "I said- _break!_" I repeat. Nothing happens. Mom lets out a huge shriek that makes my skin crawl. Now I am angry. Angry with dad for not coming, Hogwarts for not teaching me anything, mom for being reckless, me for being useless, and magic for not helping mom.

"_**BREAK!" **_I scream, a scream that resonates through the house, back and forth, echoing. I am not sure if I am hearing right or if it is my brain throbbing. Then, at this command, the door rumbles, and I hear a voice. Not mine, not mom's, not father's, I don't know who. It whispers,

"_Diffindo" _and all of a sudden, the door shatters into millions of pieces.

What I see nearly stops my heart. I see mom struggling with herself, angry red scorch marks spreading all over her scarred skin. She is still whispering something, perhaps trying to stop the burns, but it only spills more rage into the wound. I realize with a jolt, that she is not able to stop- that some unknown force has enslaved her, and she is forced to continue harming herself. Her screams have sunk to fast gasping, and I dive at her wand. Once I feel the cursed piece of wood in my hand, I yell "BREAK!". But this time, nothing happens. I cannot muster the voice to shout how I did outside. But then I remember the voice. That unknown voice that broke the door.

"_**DIFFINDO!" **_I holler, and it works. The wand is no more that a pile of dust-sized chips. If only I had done that sooner.

Mom lies on the ground, unmoving, all the scars vanished from her body, leaving only her beautiful figure. If only she moved.

"Mom. Wake up. It's Luna. Mom, please wake up," I plead. She makes no movement. I don't have to listen to her heart to know that it is asleep. But I still ask her to wake up, crying over her dead body as if it were still alive, promising to her that I will never stop thinking of her, cursing at the experiment and life itself, asking mom for forgiveness, when something in me snaps. Life becomes a numb torture, and I feel my body being thrown, tossed in stormy seas. And then there is a lifehouse. A tiny light that brings all lost ships home. I will not be thrown around by life. In that moment, I believe that there is a force. Some say it is God, some say it isn't, but I know there is a supernatural force that causes our sufferings. I will not give it pleasure. It will not have me. I will not grieve. I get up, and walk out of the room as father peers in, and throws himself over mom, tears from dad flooding her dead body. Without glancing back, I stride out. Despite my loss, I feel a fierce pleasure. I will not succumb to what is give us grief. That force will not make me suffer. Is has father, and the other unfortunate millions, but it will not have Luna Lovegood. I will not grieve. I will take what comes in my stride and move on.

As mother said, "Things that we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end." I would wait for that end. Yes, if I had to wait for eternity, I would, but mom would not be kept from me forever. And while waiting, I have plenty of reasons to be happy. Why deny myself that simple pleasure? There are so many sad things in this world, but I, Luna Lovegood, will not grieve.


End file.
